A boozy night in Haworth led to a 'private glimpse' of the previously unknown Charlotte Bronte poem recently discovered. My photographic memory did not fail me, here it is in full:
Out on the wiley, windy moors
We'd roll and fall in green.
You had a temper like my jealousy:
Too hot, too greedy.
How could you leave me,
When I needed to possess you?
I hated you. I loved you, too.
Bad dreams in the night.
They told me I was going to lose the fight,
Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering
Wuthering Heights.
Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Ooh, it gets dark! It gets lonely,
On the other side from you.
I pine a lot. I find the lot
Falls through without you.
I'm coming back, love.
Cruel Heathcliff, my one dream,
My only master.
Too long I roam in the night.
I'm coming back to his side, to put it right.
I'm coming home to wuthering, wuthering,
Wuthering Heights,
Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Ooh! Let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
Ooh! Let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
You know it's me Cathy!
Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Of course it is the Kate Bush classic.
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